Klaine Couples' Counseling
by DualWielding
Summary: 3x17 Parody. Crack!Fic. Klaine's on the rocks and everyone wants to Dance with Somebody. Amateur therapy. Whitney love.


**Klaine Couples' Counseling**

**A/N**: The crack fairy visited me at work. Awkward.

**Warnings**: Parody! Silliness, mild swearing, fourth wall breakage.

3x17, as seen through my eyes.

* * *

Hall

Mercedes: *Sadface* *Kills a Whitney song*

Schue: *Creeper kid-watching*

Santana: *Likes Whitney too, apparently* Who cares? My lips look amazing.

Kurt: Impromptu hallway singing? My fave!

Rachel: Must drown out Mercedes!

Group: *Goes to library to belt out song. Where else?*

Library kids: *Fingers in ears* I can't hear you! La-la-la-la-la!

Group: *Imagines being on stage in costumes Glee Club could never afford, as per uzh*

Mercedes: Why's the auditorium empty?

Rachel: No reason! Sing away. :) *Squints extra hard to illustrate her towering, emotional stage presence* Take that, Mercedes!

Mercedes: What did you squawk?

Rachel: Nothing! Keep singing. :)

Mercedes: I _will_ cut you.

Kurt and Santana: At least _we're_ professional. Too bad no one can hear us over the crazy.

Mercedes: Your voice was made for Broadway, Rachel.

Rachel: :D

Mercedes: My voice was made for everything else.

Rachel: ...

Rachel: Broadway's off the heezy fosheezy!

Teens everywhere: ...

* * *

Guidance

Schue: OMG! Two months!

Miss P.: Princess Di.

Schue: You're old enough to remember Di? I'm out.

Miss P.: S'okay. I talk and dress like a prepubescent girl.

Schue: Good 'nuff.

* * *

Choir Room

Mercedes: Diana Ross.

Rachel: Barbra!

Artie: Woman, step off.

Schue: Diana.

Rachel: *Screech* Mr. Schue!

Kurt: Mustard is your color, Blaine.

Blaine: IKR?

Schue: Whitney.

Tina: Yay! I also love this 80's icon.

Artie: R&B. Soul. Gospel. Pop. I'm all over that.

Sam: Drugs.

Mercedes: Oh, no you didn't. *Beat down*

Schue: Bad influences are always welcome in my classroom.

Kurt: Whitney rocks! Let me tell you exactly why!

Blaine: Dude.

Schue: *Second-hand psychobabble* Show me how you feeeel.

New Directions: ...

Finn: ?

Schue: Right now! 'Cause you're getting too old for me. Er. To teach.

Santana: WTH?

Schue: I'm here for you. But only until you graduate, because ew.

Rachel: Why are you all still talking? Me, me, me.

* * *

Hall

Kurt: No one's ever understood me like Whitney.

Blaine: *Phones it in* Remember me?

Kurt: Help me narrow down all the songs that showcase my awesomeness!

Blaine: Gotta varnish my hair.

Kurt: You suck.

Blaine: Latahz.

* * *

Between the Sheets (music for pervs)

Chandler: *Stalker in training* Hello total stranger! Allow me to get in your face, because that American/German soldier look is SO hot. I'll bet you own a riding crop. I love riding crops. Is that a hippo?

Kurt: Why yes, random gay stereotype, that's one word for it. How could you tell? Oh, you mean the brooch.

Chandler: Can I be president of your fan club?

Kurt: Um, okay. But first I have to find the perfect Whitney song.

Chandler: OMG! I remember 1989 like it was yesterday!

Kurt: Aren't you 18?

Chandler: Like it matters. This is Glee.

Kurt: Point.

Chandler: Now that we're besties, you should give me your number.

Kurt: Why not? You seem completely normal. Here you go!

* * *

Choir Room

Brittany: Solo! La-la-la.

Rachel: Mr. Schue, I hate you!

Brittany: *Shakes her very fine and totally disease free stuff*

Santana: My girlfriend's hot! And y'all can't touch.

Puck: *Also somehow disease free* Been there.

Artie: Done that.

Rachel: Your voice bears the echo of studio mix. Just sayin.

Brittany: Whatevs. You can't do this! *Mad dance skills with Mike*

Santana: You're so hot.

Brittany: Let's take this shit to our imaginatorium with more killer costumes! And Cheerios! And confetti!

New Directions (except Rachel): Woot!

Brittany: I love you all. Especially Quinn because her wheelchair is a spaceship!

* * *

Hall

Quinn: Do I ever go to class? No wonder I'm a Lima Loser.

Joe: You're waaay better than the (5) other girls I've met in my life. Can't you walk yet?

Quinn: *Stabs legs with pencil* These things are useless.

Joe: Lemme help! I went to med school this morning.

Quinn: Okay!

Joe: Wanna touch the soil in my hair? Some of it's as old as Mr. Schue's song choices.

Quinn: Sahweet.

* * *

Guidance

Schue: Wedding planner!

Miss P.: But my nut cups.

Schue: No nuts! Must have kids at wedding to get it up for honeymoon!

Miss P.: Get what up?

Schue: *Surprise sneak attack*

Miss P.: Fine! *Touching is gross*

* * *

Hall

Kurt: *Swirls feather duster around his locker. The one Mercedes used in the opening scene when Kurt was nowhere around.*

Rachel: *Sigh* Whitney was way better than me.

Kurt: Damn straight.

Rachel: It'll be our secret.

Kurt: Yeah, 'cause no one else can figure that out. *Pulls out phone*

Rachel: Gotta be Blaine! I don't get texts, but Finn texts my boobs.

Kurt: Think about that.

Rachel: ... It's Blaine, right? Right?

Kurt: Other hot guys text me. Unlike you.

Rachel: *Gasp* Your thumbs are hussies!

Kurt: Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. I deserve happiness.

Rachel: Screw happiness! We're in relationships! Tell me every personal detail right now so I can help!

Kurt: ?

Rachel: I'm helpful. Remember when I gave those excellent driving directions to a foreign exchange student?

Kurt: To the crack house?

Rachel: Whatevs.

Kurt: I miss her. She had the best voice I've ever -

Rachel: SHUT UUUUP! *Shatters glass trophy case down the hall*

Kurt: ...

Rachel: So, how can I help?

Kurt: Blaine doesn't want in my pants.

Rachel: *Gasp again* How is that possible?

Kurt: No one knows.

* * *

Choir Room

Quinn and Joe: *Kill a Whitney song during inappropriate touching montage*

Rachel: Why are other people (not me) singing again?! Mr. Schue, I hate you!

Santana: You can sing with me if it'll shut you up.

Rachel: Okay! I'll allow you the honor of accompanying my brilliance. *Flails next to Santana* And if I futilely attempt to copy your moves, people will think I'm sexy!

New Directions: No.

Sam: *Peers at Kurt's phone* Mind if I sit extremely close to you for no reason?

Kurt: *Reads super-lame texts and pretends they're hilarious while studiously ignoring Blaine No-Unscheduled-Makeouts Anderson and Sam In-Your-Lap Evans*

Blaine: What's with the phone? I haven't texted. You.

Rachel: *Hugs Santana*

Santana: Ew, get off.

* * *

Ladies' Room

Mercedes: Quinn, you tappin' Teen Jesus?

Brittany: She's hot. And hairy.

Quinn: *Pity party* Remember when I was at the top of the Glist?

Tina: You wrote the Glist.

Quinn: Whatev. We played doctor and Joe didn't do me. My life is over.

Rachel: Me, me, me.

* * *

Schue's Place

Schue: Wedding planner? Why you look straight?

Miss P.: OCD! Yay!

Lavender: OCD take long time.

Schue: No time. Kids. Bust a move.

Lavender. No time? No rap. No way.

Schue: Get out, straight man.

* * *

Locker Room

Sam: *Works guns* Weights. Olympic sized pool. No class. Why did I leave this place?

Joe: Quinn.

Sam: Yup. Me too. Everybody too.

Joe: Lady parts make me feel funny.

Sam: Go get 'em.

Joe: Can't. Hell fire.

Sam: Use my bible. Wrote it when I was jail-bait working a strip club.

Joe: Righteous.

* * *

Kurt's House

Kurt: Snacks!

Blaine: Chandler?

Kurt: Meep.

Blaine: Super-lame sexting?

Kurt: Nothing. Nobody.

Blaine: Shoe polish!

Kurt: Makeout shortage. Cheese stick?

Blaine: Eat Chandler's cheese stick.

Kurt: *Sadface*

* * *

Choir Room

Blaine: *Kills a Whitney song!* La-la-la, Thumb Hussy done me wrong.

Mike: Wha-ah?

Artie: Seriously?

Kurt: No. Shut up.

Santana: Who cheated on _who_?

Rachel: *Whistles* This is brand new information to me!

Imaginatorium

Blaine: *Lookin HOT* Thumb Hussy! Yeah! Yeah!

New Directions (except Kurt): Done him wrong!

Kurt: How come you never dress in black silk for me?

Blaine: Chandler!

Kurt: *Unjustified annoyance face* Are you ever going to let that go?

Blaine: Unhappeeee! *Storms out*

Kurt: *Sadface*

* * *

Hall

Rachel: Santana?

Santana: Stalker.

Rachel: We look hot together.

Santana: I look hot. And sometimes you're there too.

Rachel: You love me.

Santana: No.

Rachel: *Holds out picture* Hang this in your locker to show you love me.

Santana: Freak.

Rachel: Hang it or I'll break into song right here in the hall. It's not like we have a class to get to.

Santana: Gimme the pic.

Rachel: *Hugs Santana*

Santana: Ew, get off.

* * *

Kurt's Room

Burt: 'Sup, buddy.

Kurt: Organized chaos. With stickies. Because my NYADA acceptance is guaranteed, even though they only take twenty new students a year. Twenty! Is this a college or a kindergarten class?

Burt: Pink sticky prom photo?

Kurt: Blaine's being weird and I have noooo idea why. Really.

Burt: Subject change.

Kurt: *Stickies everywhere*

Burt: Can I have your trash?

Kurt: ...

Burt: *Sobs* Don't leave me!

Kurt: New York. If I can make it there – well, you know.

Burt: *Sniffle*

Kurt: Love you too, World's Best Dad.

* * *

Choir Room

Kurt: *Kills a Whitney song!* La-la-la, take me as I am or get lost. But don't leave meeee.

Quinn: I want you so much right now.

Blaine: Why must you be so pretty?

Kurt: *Vibrates with emotion, without squinting* La-la-la, I'll never change, but gimme everything and you won't regret iiiit.

Rachel: *Should take notes, but doesn't*

Mike: Dude. Are you made of stone?

Blaine. No. Shut up.

Kurt: *Real tears* I have nothing without you you you you youuuu.

Blaine: *OMG Creys* My baby!

* * *

Locker Room

Puck: Dudes. Totally random scene that has nothing to do with anything while implying that we've just finished gym class. But no one's buying that, so – goody bags!

Finn: *Wishes he were a BAMF, like Puck*

Puck: Bros. Stole these from a cougar's baby shower. Don't worry, kid's prolly not mine.

Finn: Awesome.

Puck: Dude. No nads. Rachel's safe deposit box.

Finn: Meh. Never used 'em.

Puck: True 'dat. And speaking of, do any of you bro-dudes have a girlfriend I haven't nailed yet? Yo, Asian bro, you own a gun?

* * *

Guidance

Miss P.: Couples' counseling! Yay! I help!

Blaine: Aren't you a 30-something, divorced virgin?

Miss P.: Maybe. Let's talk about _your_ crazy!

Kurt: Blaine doesn't appreciate what a hot piece of ass I am.

Miss P.: How is that possible?

Kurt: See above.

Blaine: Thumb hussy texting sleazy noobs who hit on him shamelessly.

Kurt: Hello, hypocrite. Can you say Seblaine? Do you have Papa Smirk on speaker phone right now?

Blaine: Moving on. Trivial crap about Kurt's high maintenance-ness.

Kurt: Diva practice.

Blaine: Shadap, 'cause this is couples' counseling and that means I get to jump all up in yo shit.

Kurt: *Not allowed to talk, so lets his facial expressions speak for him* _You are so not getting any tonight._

Blaine: So, like I was saying, Miss Pedocrusher, Kurt found out he's sexy despite my best efforts and now he's out of control! And also, tan hands!

Kurt: _I'm checking Sebastard for prints._

Miss P.: My therapist says it's normal for Kurt's toothpick arms to make me squirmy.

Blaine: ?

Kurt: _Have you looked at me in the last two years?_

Miss P.: Because the _Single Ladies_ dance implanted the subliminal message that he has magical hips and the ability to transport anyone who touches them to the mythical land of Shangri-La.

Kurt: _Told you._

Blaine: Other people know about his hips? This is so unfair!

Kurt: _Not just my hips. _*Wink*

Blaine: Stop with the face talking! How in the name of [insert deity here] do you do that?! My face doesn't talk like that!

Kurt: No, but that five o'clock shadow says you're an animal in the sack. Rawr.

Blaine: Cool. So when you get to New York you're not going to leave me for someone taller and better dressed?

Kurt: Do drunken BJs count?

Blaine: Um, yes?

Kurt: ...

Blaine: Kurt?

Kurt: Fine! I won't leave you. But you'd better start treating me like the wet dream I am or I'll have your role recast before you can say Pigfarts.

Blaine: Ryan wouldn't do that.

Ryan: Kurt's money in the bank. *Dreams of Shangri-La* Now give me a hot kissing scene that will inevitably be cut by FOX, but will nevertheless get lots of play time on my laptop at home, followed by an awkward and totally out of place brotherly hug that will spur a flood of hate mail to FOX executives from a kliss starved, yet maniacally dedicated fandom.

Kurt: And don't be stingy with the tongue this time, Criss. You're not fooling anyone.

Klaine: *Porno tongue kissing*

Miss P.: Oh! Okay. Yay. Another satisfied customer. Please stop that. Don't touch him there. Not the hose monster! *Fans self* Now, if you'll excuse me, must go change my granny panties. *Grabs latex gloves*

* * *

Schue's Place

Schue: *Pours cheap (teacher's salary) bubbly*

Miss P.: Champagne? Obscure literary reference.

Schue: Ignore what I don't understand. Wedding venue!

Miss P.: ?

Schue: Campground! Free toilets! Woot!

Miss P.: Are you yankin me?

Schue: Woods! Hide and seek with Finn!

Miss P.: o.O

Schue: Nobody. Nothing.

Miss P.: Here. Have some of my meds with your booze.

* * *

Rehab

Joe: Trust me. I'm a physical therapist or something. *More inappropriate touching* Oops.

Quinn: No worries. Happens to me _all_ the time.

Joe: *Blushing virgin*

Quinn: Teen Jesuses are hot.

Joe: More offensive religious waffling.

Quinn: If I had a wine cooler we'd be making babies by now.

Joe: Sam's bible.

* * *

Hall

Blaine: Fumbling, yet adorable attempt at fashion flattery.

Kurt: Um, thanks? *Buzz buzz* Better not be my stalker. I gave him a riding crop and told him to beat it. Actually, he might have misunderstood.

Blaine: I wanna go to Shangri-La.

Kurt: 'Bout time. And now I will play hard to get.

Fandom: NOOOOO!

Kurt: Glee.

Blaine: Ditch?

Kurt: GLEE!

* * *

Auditorium (the real one this time)

Artie and Mercedes: *KILL a Whitney song!*

Mercedes: We sound amazing together.

Artie: IKR? We're so underutilized on this show.

Klaine/ Finchel/ Brittana/ Etc.: *Jump in, lowering the soul factor significantly, but we're cool with it, and, for some unknown reason, behaving as if they haven't seen each other in months*

Rachel: *Hugs Kurt* You missed me!

Kurt: If you say so. *Hugs Mercedes* I miss Kurtcedes!

Mercedes: Love you, white boy.

Santana: *Hugs Rachel*

Rachel: YAY! You _do_ love me!

Santana: Drunk. Celebrating getting away from you after grad.

Rachel: That counts!

Schue: *Creepy, yet happy/sad kid-watching* My babies! *Sniff*

* * *

Hall

Group: *Dismantles Whitney shrine* *Reluctantly*

Kurt: *Gorgeous close-up, heavy-sigh, sweet goodbye Whitney face* R.I.P.

Ryan: Money. In. The bank.

* * *

The End!


End file.
